


Believing in Dreams

by lfvoy



Series: Aftermath [4]
Category: Firefly
Genre: Gen, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-13
Updated: 2011-10-13
Packaged: 2017-10-24 13:49:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/264157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lfvoy/pseuds/lfvoy





	Believing in Dreams

The barker was using what sounded like the exact same spiel he’d been using the last time they’d visited. “Behind this curtain lies the secret they don’t want you to see: proof of alien life! Laugh if you must, but what you see will change your life forever. It will stalk your dreams and haunt your very soul!”

River rolled her eyes at Kaylee as they passed. “Entertainment in imagination.”

“Hmm?” Kaylee’s eyes were intent on the shopping list in her hands.

“Nothing.” She returned to her perusal of the stalls as they passed. They were in a part of the bazaar that offered all sorts of services, some clearly legitimate, some clearly not, and some that were somewhere in between. It was a cacophony of sound, a bright mixture of all humanity had to offer in the ‘verse, a plethora of sights and sounds and smells and feels that River hadn’t had the chance to take in during her last visit here. She was fascinated.

As they passed another stall — _Isis Minerva, Psychic_ — a woman came out to stand in the door. She was middle-aged, but still clearly in good shape, and her eyes fell directly on River. “So many stories,” she murmured softly, clearly not addressing anyone in the area.

But River heard her anyway and went stock still, her attention drawn. It couldn’t be. All the readers she knew of were like her: made by the Parliament, prepared for a purpose. How could there be one here, and how was she using it for entertainment? Could reading even _be_ entertainment?

“River?” Kaylee had kept on going, but when she realized River had stopped had turned back. “What’s wrong?”

“A reader,” said River. “I thought they were all like me.”

Kaylee glanced at the booth. “Oh, honey, no. She’s just an entertainer. Tries to sucker people into thinking they’ve found some sort of contact with the afterlife or something. She probably don’t read any more than I do.”

“Oh.” River cocked her head sideways. “Who would find that entertaining?”

“Lots of folk. I’ve even gone to one myself, see what she might conjure up about me.”

“Did she think up anything interesting?”

Kaylee laughed. “Oh, yeah. She was pretty _xíng_. Didn’t realize ’til later she had figured most of it out by looking at me. I hadn’t changed from my coveralls, and I was carrying the same kind of supply list I got now. But it was fun.”

River didn’t move, still contemplating “Isis Minerva,” who was obviously not returning the favor. The crowds of people separated to flow around them, but not without jostling.

“River, sweetheart? Come on, we don’t got all day to stand ’round and look at a _jia de_.”

She shook herself out of her reverie and followed Kaylee, her eyes still on the psychic. “Doesn’t feel like a _jia de_.”

* * *

River stood in the shadow across the passway, watching Isis Minerva’s door. It was later, and the bazaar lights had been darkened, making it easier to see without being seen. Many of the booths were closed, but the psychic seemed to still be doing a steady business. Another customer came out, shaking his head, his amazement obvious even without her enhanced senses.

She’d looked it up after they’d gotten back from their shopping expedition. Entertainers pretended to connect people with a “spirit” world. The best were good observers and sharp judges of character, but no more than that. The worse existed on guesswork alone. People were fascinated by psychics.

 _That’s because they don’t know what it’s really like._

Her feet seemed to wander toward the door of their own accord. She ducked through the hanging beads that served as a separator and found herself inside a dark room with a heavy miasma of incense. She coughed.

“Seeking something, child?”

In the dim light, she could see Isis Minerva stood in front of her. River coughed a little. “Not looking.”

“Everyone’s looking,” said the psychic softly. She reached for River’s hand. “They don’t come in here if they aren’t. What are you seeking? The _líng hún_ of a departed loved one?”

Their hands touched, and the psychic’s suddenly tightened. Her entire demeanor abruptly changed. “It’s you.”

 _“Duìbuqi?”_

“The one from before. The one with all the currents flowing toward her, the one who carries so much that isn’t her own.” Isis Minerva pushed closer, studying River’s face. “I felt you earlier.”

“You saw me. We passed by.”

“I didn’t see you. I didn’t want to look.” She slid her hands to River’s face, cupping it and turning it up to face her. “Who are you?”

“I’m River.” But she knew that wasn’t what the psychic was asking.

“Your name is River? It suits you: the one who moves, silent yet strong, whispering yet with so much to say.” She paused. “Rivers speak of dreams and yet hide things from plain view. What dreams are you seeking?”

She didn’t have any idea how to answer that, so she opted for honesty. “I don’t have dreams.”

“Everyone has dreams, child. Some people just don’t choose to remember them.”

“I choose not to remember, then,” she replied.

Isis dropped her hands away from River’s face. “That’s a shame. Some dreams should never be forgotten.”

“Some dreams,” said River, “are nightmares.”

“That’s especially true when they’re not yours.”

She looked up sharply to see Isis staring back. River shook her head. “You’ve been reading the news nets. You know who I am.”

“No, child.” The psychic slowly walked all the way around her. “I don’t know who you are. I don’t even think you know who you are.”

“I told you. I’m River.”

“River Tam. It’s just a name. Who are you, River Tam? Are you only a receptacle for other people’s dreams or do you have your own secrets?” The older woman paused. “They want you to believe that, you know.”

“Believe what?”

“That you’re nothing more than what they made you.” A new timbre had crept into Isis’ voice. “They always want you to believe that. The real danger is when you do. I should know.”

She finally understood. “They made you, too.”

“Yes. An earlier project.” She gestured around her. “They told me I was nothing else, and I believed it. So here I am. Do you believe it, River Tam?”

That was a gap in logic. “You wouldn’t talk like that if you believed it now.”

“It’s too late now. You didn’t answer my question.”

She glanced away. “I don’t have an answer.”

“And I don’t have one for you. I can only answer the simpler questions. Does my husband still love me? Has my son forgotten me?” She inhaled and exhaled sharply, moving to stand in front of a table displaying several oddities. “Even if I had your answer, I wouldn’t give it. You must learn it yourself.”

“Like you did?”

“I never did. I don’t even know my own name.” Nodding in decision, Isis plucked a string of beads off the table and handed it to her. “My gift to you. Find your dreams, River Tam. I need to serve my clients.”

She clutched the string. “What dreams would those be?”

“They’re the ones that answer your questions. Who are you? Where are you going? What do you want?” Without giving her a chance to reply, Isis ducked through another curtain and disappeared into the inner room of her shop. There was nowhere else for River to go except back to _Serenity_.

Simon met her at the cargo bay door. “River? Where have you been? Are you all right?” He frowned down at her hands. “What are those _lì_?”

She realized she was still holding the string of beads and opened her hand. Her grip had been tight enough that they’d left impressions in her skin.

“Someone else’s dreams,” she answered. “Without the nightmares.”

* * *

  
Translations:   
  


  * Duìbuqi — excuse me, I’m sorry
  

  * Jia de — fake, phony
  

  * Lì — small round things
  

  * Líng hún — soul, spirit
  

  * Xíng — capable, competent, effective, “all right”
  




End file.
